


Set Coordinates

by spinsters_grave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Brainwashing, Gen, I thought this was in July. I was wrong, Kuro Week 2k17, Kuro has a long road of recovery in front of him, One Plot instead of One Shots, Some of the chapters are short. Sorry, Suggestion of non consensual scientific experimentation, fluff and some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsters_grave/pseuds/spinsters_grave
Summary: Kuro was made for one purpose: to kill and be killed. Everything was planned, from the moment he was made to the moment he was supposed to die. The paladins were his enemy, and she was his everything.Then what wasn't supposed to go wrong went wrong, and Kuro doesn't know how to act: what he's been taught as fact isn't right. The universe has been turned upside down, even though there is no direction in space.Maybe they're right. Maybe Voltron really does save lives.





	1. Madness

There was typing. There always seemed to be typing, somewhere, somehow.

“Ma’am, he’s been acting odd,” someone said. “You can see he’s fidgeting. And records show he’s been eating less.”

She smiled, something scary and strange. “No problem. We just need to re-route some neural paths. Get some transmitters, plan for prep…”

Everything went blurry and staticky. The table dug into Kuro’s back, and he twisted, trying to get comfortable.

Cold hands cut through the static at his temples. Kuro flinched slightly, but not so that anyone could see. He’d learned not to show weakness early on.

He’d been there for hours already. His back hurt. He couldn’t sleep—they didn’t let him. They didn’t give him food, either. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food.

Her voice cut through the static. “Prepare the KEVO for invasion. This isn’t going right.”

KEVO: Kuro’s Earliest Vision Of wrong. That’s not what it stood for.

Kuro shook. He couldn’t hide it from everyone else, but that didn’t matter, since everyone kept doing what they were doing.

“Please,” Kuro whispered, not sure who he was talking to or what he was asking for. “I’ll be fine,” he said louder. “I won’t resist.”

She tsked. “You’re not making any conscious decision to resist us,” she said in her voice that was neither good nor bad. “We’d have to use the KEVO anyways. Your brain is not responding correctly.”

Kuro felt his teeth clench. He didn’t _want this._ He didn’t _deserve this._ He needed—something. To leave. Something inside Kuro went sharp, then cold, and then he was floating somewhere far, far away.

It was quiet, but not outside, where he was screaming.

With the outside-screaming came the sound of rapid beeping. Kuro’s eyes went shimmery, but he could see her face lit up and stunned. There was a smile, but less sharp. It was the happiest he’d ever seen her.

Kuro blinked, or he thought he blinked, and there was something dark and sticky on his hand, and he was in a small ship, or in front of it. His hands hung limp at his sides.

Kuro blinked again and the world wasn’t shimmery anymore. His heart was beating faster than ever. Someone would want to keep track of that. Maybe it was a new record. He could feel it thudding against his skin like it was trying to leave him.

His hands fit around the ship’s controls. He needed to get away. He couldn’t stay here any longer—he was going to explode.

He didn’t set coordinates. He didn’t especially know how—he didn’t know how to fly a pod either, but he could just wing that one. It couldn’t be too hard.

Kuro unsteadily brought the ship up despite the screams of the guards and technicians. He winced as one wing scraped against the the side of the hanger and threw sparks. Then the whole thing tilted, and Kuro quickly fixed it. His heart thudded in his chest even harder.

He should wear a seatbelt. That wasn’t _his_ thought, Kuro didn’t think. That must have been Not-Him’s thought, deeply ingrained enough to survive the copy. Regardless, Kuro searched around until he found some nylon band to cross his chest. Good enough.

The control sticks were dangerous to hold. Kuro silently swallowed liquid pooling in his mouth, and pushed the sticks hard. The pod jolted forward, and everyone in the hanger dropped to the floor or were slammed into the wall behind Kuro. Kuro used the feet pedals on the floor to lean the pod in the direction of the doors, and in a roundabout way, he found himself outside the main ship and in the stars.

He’d only seen pictures of them before. Not-Him had memories of them, and of adventuring in them, but Kuro was young enough to not know anything about them. They were cold and far away, but close enough to touch and felt like fire.

Kuro pressed forward. The main ship was slow but steady, and Kuro knew somehow that he needed to put space in between them. The pod was speedy enough. It would run out of gas eventually, but Kuro was planning to be long gone by then.

‘He was planning to be long gone by then.’ Kuro didn’t know where specifically he was going—just Away. He’d know when he gets there.

He flew by something blue and white. He glanced at it through the window of his pod, and something in his brain pinged—it wasn’t Not-Him, and it wasn’t himself either. He turned his head forward and ignored the small moment of recognition.

The stars pulled him forward. Kuro wanted to touch their fire and their ice, the same things that couldn’t be more different. He could reach them if he tried really hard.

Some kind of siren echoed through the communications device all of a sudden. Kuro jumped in his seat. He couldn’t look behind him, not even for a moment, or they would catch up on him, so he pulled ahead faster.

Wait, he could pull up the rear-view camera. Barely keeping an eye on the control panel, Kuro typed in a command, and in the corner of his vision, a screen popped up.

A space rock rose up in Kuro’s vision. He swerved to avoid it, and heard the sound of another ship crunching through it like it was nothing.

On the rear view camera, her ship was right behind Kuro, the chunks of rock swirling around her in the endless vacuum of space. Kuro saw a familiar blue glow trailing even farther behind them.

He couldn’t outrun them forever. And he didn’t.

He didn’t go back without a fight. They had to drag him out of his ship. Everything went shimmery and odd again, but Kuro didn’t feel it that far away.

His fist connected with someone’s face, and another someone yanked him forward, away from the felled soldier. They grunted in his ear—“Damn thing’s not worth the trouble.”

Kuro growled and struggled in their grasp, but was eventually led back to her. He always found his way back to her. She smiled gently, like Kuro wasn’t about to rip her face off, and told the soldiers holding him (more had come somewhere) that he was to be led back to his room.

They tossed him in without anything special, and Kuro sprang right back up, trying to reach the bars before they closed in his face.

He came face to face with the startled gaze of a soldier, who could have breathed onto Kuro’s nose but didn’t from fear. Kuro huffed and narrowed his eyes at the guard in a long, suspended moment where he silently dared the guard to let him go.

The guard took a step back and hung the keys on the wall opposite Kuro. Kuro strained, trying to reach them, but only managed to make his arm hurt. He slumped onto the bars, defeated. For quite some time, Kuro was left alone.

There was a blast from down the hallway. Kuro raised his eyebrows at the noise, but slumped down the bars of his room further.

In the direction the blast came from, a flash of bright blue appeared around the corner but disappeared as quickly as it came. Kuro watched the corner, waiting for it to appear again. He heard some frantic whispering, but no words.

The blue head appeared around the corner again, with a yellow head stacked on top of it. Kuro laughed quietly, his head resting on his arms through the bars. He waved at Blue and Yellow.

They looked at each other, then carefully rounded the corner. Kuro watched them approach like they thought he would bite once they got too close.

For anyone else, he would have. But Blue and Yellow were important. Kuro grinned at them, all teeth. They stopped, then when Kuro didn’t move anything else, got right up next to the bars.

Yellow kept his hand on his weapon. Blue asked Kuro a question, and Kuro hummed at him. Yellow said something, and Blue said something back, and they opened the doors and took Kuro with them out of there.

Everything was still loopy. Kuro wasn’t screaming anymore, inside or outside, but there was a wild bounce to his step and a leer in the shape of his shoulders. There was something inside him that was telling him  _look out_ and _it’s time_ and _you’re too late,_ all at once.

Blue and Yellow took Kuro to a Lion, and Kuro thought, _this is it._ This is why he was made, this exact reason—being taken to the central command of Voltron by the Blue and Yellow paladins themselves.

It was only when he was thrown into another room that Kuro lost it. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, _they were supposed to trust him, they were supposed to listen to him they were supposed to believe him—_

Kuro didn’t realize he had been clawing at the walls until he felt a drop of blood land on his feet. He paused, the floor not quite falling away but certainly plummeting, and directed his gaze outside.

His chest seized. Kuro struggled for breath, trying not to make a sound in the absolute silence. The paladins were all there, Red and Green and Blue and Yellow and Not-Him, and the Altean princess. Kuro swallowed thickly.

His hand shook. They all stared at him like they were afraid he was going to bite their faces off—he might have.

Kuro’s mouth opened, and he heard his voice say, “What’s going on?” with something high and shivery.

The Altean princess clasped her hands together and brought them to her mouth. She considered him for a second, her eyes filled with something Kuro couldn’t put a name to.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” she whispered.

 

 

 


	2. Identity

“And whenever I blink, you die,” Green said. “And when I open my eyes you’re back again. Of course, only I know all of this, so by default you know this too.”

Kuro stared at the ceiling and waited.

***

“Your past life factors a lot into the karma of your life right now, actually,” Yellow said. “Like, if you had made all these decisions to hurt people and stuff, like Hitler or something, then your current life is plagued by that karma and you have to do all this stuff to fix it. I don’t know what, exactly, probably chant a lot for other people and the universe. I’ll ask Shiro.”

Kuro scratched the back of his neck.

***

“So I really had to find myself,” Blue said. “It was pretty hard with all these people encroaching on your space so much that they’re all in the way when you try to look into yourself.”

Kuro tapped his fingers on the wall.

Green, Yellow, and Blue had all come to talk to him, in order of frequency. Kuro didn’t pay much if any attention to whatever they said and instead just waited. It would happen soon, and then he could do what he needed to.

“All of their ideas feed into your brain and you can’t find an original thought within the lot of them,” Blue continued.

***

“And of course, freaking Greeks _stole_ all these thoughts from the Middle East and China and all them,” Green continued. “Probably. Like, math is more of an Arabic creation than whatever fuck-head Greek created the concept of pi and spheres and shit.”

Kuro felt his blood run cold, and for a moment he thought _this is it_ and then it passed.

***

“There’s this one story about a hunter who shot a stone tiger,” Yellow said. “The tiger had eaten his wife, and he went on this huge revenge quest to kill the tiger. And he thought he’d seen the tiger behind a wall of vines and he shot it, only to find that the tiger was a stone. Miraculously, the stone had been pierced with the hunter’s arrows, such was the power of his faith and determination.”

Kuro grunted once. Honestly, the Blue one was more exciting than this.

“And Shiro says that that’s really why he’s Buddhist,” Yellow said. “He’d read the story when he was younger and it spoke to him.”

***

Kuro’s blood ran cold again, and he thought _this has GOT to be it,_ but then it passed and Kuro felt the bars of his room and it was all the same.

Green paused. “What are you doing?”

Kuro looked up at their confused eyes, then fell back onto his bed and said nothing.

***

Red placed his helmet on the ground. This was his first time speaking with Kuro, and Kuro sat up, wondering what Red had to say.

“I don’t like you,” Red said, like Kuro was supposed to react. “You’re not Shiro, even though you look like him. You’re not going to replace him on the team or mess with our heads or kill—or do anything you were supposed to do when the Galra made you. And believe you me, the first chance we get, we’re getting rid of you.”

Kuro smiled at the last bit and didn’t listen to another word Red said.

***

“You listen, don’t you,” Green said. “I think you do.”

Kuro looked at them. He raised his eyebrows, trying to tell them _Does it look like I listen to you?_ They hummed.

“None of this is real,” they said. “I made it all up. All of it. And you’re just something my mind came up with. I wasn’t actually expecting you, though.”

Most never do. Expect him, that is.

“I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

***

“...your enemies,” Red said. Kuro listened suddenly and abruptly. “That’s what he said, anyways. Actually, the book said more about using your environment, and avoiding battle, and you know what—”

Red broke off in frustration. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you. Pidge says you listen, which you are obviously not doing. She said I need someone to talk to other than Shiro. She said that ideas rot and fester when they’re only being shared between two people.”

Red picked up his helmet and squeezed it hard between his hands. Kuro let him.

“Lance said you’re good to talk to, too, but you’re _not,”_ Red hissed. “Forget this. I’m leaving.”

He paused. “You’re nothing to us, you know that? You’re just an _obstacle._ We’re getting rid of you as soon as we can.” His voice rose in volume. “Don’t just _sit_ there! Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s not going to happen. Do you hear me? Do you?”

He rattled the bars, and for a moment, Kuro thought he was back _there,_ and they were going to take him away. When he fell off his bed, he remembered, and he came back to himself, right when Red ran away.

***

“I’m sorry about Keith,” Yellow said. “He told us what happened. Are you okay?”

Kuro didn’t know. Not a lot of this was okay, but it was all he had known before the paladins picked him up. He was used to being yelled at for reasons beyond his control. She did it plenty of times. Red wasn’t too bad.

Kuro shrugged.

Yellow nodded slowly, a small smile appearing on his face. “Okay. Okay, well, that’s better, you’re responding to me, okay.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Kuro said. He looked up at the ceiling from his bed and counted the lumps in the tile. “He left before he got too mad, too.”

“Oh my god you are _speaking,”_ Yellow said. “Uh, okay. I have to get everyone else in here. Keith will apologize.”

***

Red apologized. Kuro let him.

***

“Say something,” Blue said, much later. “I know you can. Are you doing this just to mess with us? It’s not working.”

Later, he said, “We’re here to help. We’re not going to hurt you. You know that, right?”

Kuro’s eyes flickered shut for a moment, then opened. He rubbed his lips together in contemplation.

“I know,” he lied.

***

Blue wore his casual clothes. Kuro heard him down the hallway, walking and deliberate. He almost sat up to wait for Blue’s arrival.

“Hello,” Blue said. “Are you listening?”

Kuro said nothing, only raised his eyebrows. _Doesn’t it look like I’m listening?_

“It’s uncanny,” Lance muttered. “You’re in the dip of the uncanny valley, you know? Like, you look exactly like Shiro, but you’re not _him._ It’s wild.”

Not-Him. Yes, Kuro knew. He wasn’t him, only an imperfect copy. He didn’t let himself flounder in those kinds of thoughts that often, and now was no different. He needed to stay focused, for when it happened.

“You’re so different from him,” Blue said. “I can tell you’re trying to be like him, though. I can relate. Shiro’s pretty perfect.”

Kuro rolled over to look at the wall next to his bed. He hoped Blue took a hint, but apparently not, because the alien just kept trucking along.

“You shouldn’t try to be like him, though. He's his own person, who went through tons of hardships, and he wouldn’t be himself without those tragedies. And being your own person is good, too. Am I making any sense? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Kuro shut his eyes and tried to find sleep or death, whichever came first.

***

Green came up right next to the bars this time, whipping off their helmet and shaking out their hair. Kuro watched them approach with some trepidation.

“I can’t stand this,” they growled. “Say something. Say anything! Are you alive in there? Are my efforts worth it? Is anything getting through that thick, thick skull of yours?”

Kuro breathed in, then out, very, very carefully. “I’m alive.”

Green slumped against the bars of Kuro’s room. “Then act like it. Please.”

***

All these thoughts swirling around his head, and he couldn’t find an original one within the lot of them. That’s what Blue had said, or an approximate of that. A lot of what Blue had said made up what was taking up Kuro’s brain space.

He glared at the ceiling. Didn’t hold any answers for him. He glared at it for ages more. Still didn’t.

He was an imperfect copy. That thought had sustained him for his entire life. Just think of what they might have done if he was a _perfect_ copy instead.

***

“Listen. Not-Shiro. Whoever you are. You know, you’ve never told us your name,” Blue said. “Not important. Listen.

“You are _not Shiro._ I love how you think your nightmares aren't affecting the rest of us, asshole, your screaming is keeping us up at night and I just can’t deal with that.

_“You are not Shiro._ You’re your own person. You are you. Now shut up and let us sleep for once this whole goddamn week.”

Kuro watched him go. He didn’t have anything to say in return.

***

Okay, so maybe Blue was right. Maybe he was a different person. It’s so hard to change beliefs like that, at the drop of a hat. (That was one of Not-Him’s phrases.) Kuro almost couldn’t do it. But he knew what he was thinking wasn’t right, either.

***

Kuro heard footsteps coming around the corner. They were light, so they belonged to Green; he hoped foolishly that they would be Blue’s footsteps instead. They weren’t.

Green sat down cross-legged outside Kuro’s room. Kuro sat on the edge of his bed and waited for them to speak. Green smiled.

“Philosophy is about having an open mind,” they began. “I’m glad to see yours is beginning to grow.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Remember how I said I thought this was in July? Well I hadn't written anything for this. I only remembered when I saw a post on the blog and went "hey")
> 
> (That was like two weeks before the event. I had only written a chapter and half of this. I started in March. Do you see my dilemma here)
> 
> (I like to think my writing has improved since March but I haven't edited anything. I restarted in this exact chapter. I think I can point out the exact line. If you think you can find the line where I restarted shoot me a comment and I'll see if I can write a small drabble for whoever guesses correctly)
> 
> (Hint: It's in one of Lance's sections)


	3. Mirror

“Philosophy is about having an open mind,” Green said. “I’m glad to see yours is beginning to grow. We all think you’ve made great strides, so we’re bringing—um—Not-Him in here, so—”

Kuro stood up abruptly. He didn’t know why—excitement filled him, adrenaline rushed through his bones.

“Yeah,” Green continued. “You’re not going to regress, right? None of us would know what to do.”

Kuro didn’t know. He might as well have literally been born yesterday. He didn’t know how to navigate his body any more than any of the paladins did their own.

Green carefully watched for his reaction, so Kuro gave them none. They could bring Not-Him in here. He didn’t care.

Of course, easier said than done. Kuro felt his entire body freeze the second he saw Not-Him, and he thought, _this has got to be it._

Kuro couldn’t test it. All eyes were on him; he couldn’t give away his trump card like that.

This was his second time seeing Not-Him, though probably the first time that actually _counted._ His release from her didn’t count. And Not-Him’s face triggered something in Kuro, something he couldn’t name or place.

Kuro couldn’t just _erase_ the reason he existed within a couple days. He didn’t know if he wanted to or not. He felt something evil and dark rise up inside of him, and while he battled his thoughts, he pushed it aside.

The evil thing wouldn’t stay pushed away for long, and it rose again and again, forcing Kuro to push it down an equal number of times. He _wouldn’t_ let it break free. It didn’t deserve any of that. His entire life became keeping the evil thing contained, secret, away, safe.

Damn it, he didn’t want the evil to _hurt_ anyone. That was why.

Distantly, he heard Not-Him say, “Hello? What’s your name?”

Kuro opened his eyes—he hadn’t realized he had closed them—and said, _“You_ should know. You named me. You named all of us.”

The evil thing was winning. Kuro sat down heavily on his bed and squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself of distractions so he could focus on making the evil thing _gone._

When he opened his eyes again, everyone was gone. Everyone save Not-Him, who was sleeping outside Kuro’s cell. Kuro watched him for a long, long second. The uncanny valley, Blue had called it. Kuro didn’t know what that meant. He couldn’t see it, either.

Not-Him snorted awake. Kuro squatted next to where Not-Him sat against the bars. Not-Him made a funny sound, and Kuro almost smiled.

“Jesus, you scared me,” Not-Him said. He had the gall to grin. “You doing alright? Everything’s fine, no one’s treating you bad? Besides the fact you’re in a cell, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

Kuro didn’t know what “cell” meant, but he shook his head at the rest. “I’m fine.”

Not-Him scratched his head. “Lance and Hunk told me you sound like me. I can’t hear it, though. Is there anything I can get you? We’re here to help, man.”

Kuro shook his head again.

Not-Him looked almost defeated. “I still don’t know your name. I was trying to remember, but… my memory's pretty spotty. Haggar really did a number on me.”

Kuro sniffed when Not-Him mentioned Haggar. He wasn’t technically supposed to call her that; she didn’t think it was respectful.

“Kuro,” he said softly. Least he could do. He felt like he could trust this Not-Him, his mirror image—not that he knew what a mirror was. The closest he got to a reflection was a ghostly silhouette over an expanse of stars, smeared over a thick pane of glass. Kuro had seen his ghost reflection enough times to know Not-Him looked like him. The difference was, Kuro had seen clear images of Not-Him. Himself, not so much.

“Shiro,” Not-Him said. Shiro said. Kuro tried to put that into his knowledge of the world.

“Shiro,” Kuro repeated. “I am going to sleep now.”

Shiro laughed softly, once. “You don’t need my permission.”

Kuro blinked. “I was simply reporting on the situation. Don't you have logs you update? She did. You need to keep track of everything.”

Shiro shook his head gently, like he was trying to comfort an animal. “No, no, we don’t do that here,” he said in a voice that reinforced what his actions were trying to convey. “You do what you want, when you want. You know that, right?”

The concept of doing what he wanted, when he wanted, was foreign to Kuro, and he said as much. He didn’t know anything outside Not—outside of Shiro's own deeply ingrained habits and whatever she had taught him.

“We’ll change that,” Shiro reassured. “You're going to be your own person, with your own sense of self. I can guarantee you that one thing, at least.”

Kuro tsked. “Don’t make promises like that, Shiro. You know you can’t keep them.”

Shiro silently turned to look into Kuro’s eyes for the very first time. Kuro thought that would trigger something. It didn’t.

They held each other’s gazes for a while. Kuro didn’t think this was a battle of wills. More like some serious soul-searching for Shiro. That was fine, Kuro was willing to be there for that. He knew Shiro needed it.

“You know me better than I know myself, don’t you,” Shiro finally whispered.

Kuro said nothing. He thought his silence spoke louder than anything he might have said.

Shiro breathed out. “Jesus. What are we going to do with you?”

Kuro reached out to touch the bars of his room, but stopped with his hand a millimeter away from the metal. “I don’t know, Shiro. You’ll think of something with the Princess. You’re good at that.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry this is so short! I was rushing through these few chapters. But this chapter does have important plot/character development aspects!)


	4. Deception

Shiro left after a while. Kuro was left to his own devices for some time. He spent most of it thinking or sleeping.

All of a sudden, he didn’t know what he wanted. He knew he _should_ want these people to die, to suffer, but… they didn’t deserve that. Even Not-Him—Shiro—was a good person.

Kuro brushed his hand over the wall. He had thought, _this is it,_ when he saw Shiro, though he knew it should be a lot more painful than a rush of blood and a feeling of lightheadedness.

And it was. Kuro didn’t have any warning; the feeling of disappearing washed over him before he could even blink. There weren’t words good enough to describe how it felt; it hurt, and it hurt, and it tore him apart.

Kuro lay on his bed, breathing hard, when it was over. He didn’t think he had screamed. Since no one came running, he probably hadn’t; he was pretty sure that was a good thing. Screaming was a weakness. He couldn’t show weakness.

His hand shook as he brought it up again. He tried to touch the wall, several times. Each time, the tips of his fingers disappeared into the wall beyond, where Kuro couldn’t see. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, though, he thought he could feel the ghost of insulation and cold, hard metal.

He took his fingers out of the wall. It wouldn’t help now; it was just designed to hurt people. And Kuro decided he didn’t _want_ to hurt people. Not the paladins, not anyone who hadn’t hurt anyone else—not good people. Kuro wanted to be a good person.

He tried to sleep, but his head wanted to go through his bed. Kuro settled his arm under his head and left it at that. If he fell through his bed while he was sleeping, then things were not working right, and he’d have to report that to her when he got back.

***

They took him out of his room and into a room with a long table and lots of chairs. Kuro was directed to sit at one end by Blue and Yellow, and the paladins, along with the Altean Princess and her advisor, amassed on the other end. Kuro could only just make out Princess’s face, but he could hear her just fine.

“Shiro told me you go by Kuro,” she began. “Is that correct?”

Kuro shrugged. They could call him whatever they wanted to. He didn’t care.

“Right then,” Princess continued. She turned to her advisor and gestured for him to display pieces of paper, which he did with a flourish. They slid across the length of the table to come to a gentle stop in front of Kuro. “These are some resort-type planets that our resources show are relatively free of Galra control. We would like to drop you off at one to rebuild your life. You understand—we cannot have you aboard our ship. You would be better off on one of those planets.”

The pieces of paper were pamphlets, actually, and old ones—the graphic design was around ten thousand years out of style. Kuro picked one up for Aegina, and snorted.

“This was destroyed,” he said, holding it up for Princess and her paladins to see. “Five thousand, three hundred and sixty years ago.” The green planet hanging in black space on the cover of the brochure was probably the only sight they’d ever see of Aegina, ever.

Princess made a funny sound. “Put it back on the table.” Kuro did, and it floated back to Princess, who put it right next to herself. “Look at the others, then,” she said, gesturing towards Kuro and his pamphlets. “There ought to be at least one of them that works for you.”

Qataar—Kuro almost laughed. He pushed it across the table, though it didn’t go far before it was halted by wind resistance. Qataar held bad memories for anyone who had a basic Galra history lesson. And besides, it was destroyed ten thousand years ago.

Myas. Loch Lillian. Olkari—Kuro looked closely at the bustling city, then held it up and said, “Olkari is nothing like this anymore. All of its people are either enslaved, dead, or regressed, primitive beings who worship plants and trees.”

Green growled, and Shiro had to hold them back. He whispered something to them that made them back down somewhat, but hey still glared at Kuro, their bayard gripped tightly in their hand. Kuro watched it closely and almost wished he could fight them all.

Loch Lillian looked nice. Kuro kept going back to that pamphlet, which described the various wildlife he’d find there, along with small settlements of self-sustained aliens from all over the universe. Kuro hadn’t heard anything about Loch Lillian before, except a small grumble from her about how she couldn’t find it.

Kuro kept that pamphlet close by, and looked over Myas. Myas was a bustling metropolis—literally—the city covered the entire planet, save for a few green spots for biodiversity. The brochure screamed at him about all the sights and sounds and attractions he could see, and the places he could go, the places he shouldn’t go, the people, the good people, the bad people, the history behind Myas, the places he could read about history, the places he could see history, the bad history, the good history—anything and everything. Kuro lightly set that down far away from him. He decided he didn’t like places that screamed at him from just its brochure.

Loch Lillian, though, seemed quiet, peaceful. Kuro liked looking at the brochure.

He slid the rest of the pamphlets away, but kept Loch Lillian for himself. Whatever magic the table used took the papers towards Princess and her entourage, who had been watching all this silent interaction with mild trepidation.

Kuro kept his Loch Lillian in his hand. It was a nice ideal, and he wasn’t going to let go of it, but he was ready to go back now. Everything they were doing was confusing him. He said as much: “Take me back.”

Princess coughed, once. The rest of the paladins looked slightly shocked, and leaned away from Kuro. Princess spoke: “What do you mean, _back?”_

“Back to her.” That was the best way Kuro could describe it.

“Her? You mean like, Haggar? Oh, no.” It was Yellow that spoke, and Yellow who put his head in his hands. “We’re not taking you back there.”

Kuro interrupted. “Why not?”

“Why not? Why _not?_ Are you crazy?” Red demanded. “We’re not hand-delivering them a weapon they almost readily gave up. You’re staying here until we can put you somewhere far, far away from Galra hands.”

“Take me back,” Kuro demanded, because it was all he knew how to say.

“Why do you want to go back to _them?”_ Yellow asked. “Didn’t they… you know… hurt you?”

Kuro crossed his arms. Loch Lillian crunched quietly in his grip, and he loosened his fist around it. “Take me back.” They were all he knew.

“We’re not doing that,” Princess said, with an air of finality. “Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t. We’re not Galra. We don’t serve their interests.”

Kuro blinked hard, trying to process. “You’re not… yes you are. Everyone’s Galra. Everyone in the entire universe. Look at Red—he’s basically a purebred.”

He almost regretted his outburst, then didn’t when the rest of the paladins turned to look at Red, who crossed his arms and didn’t say anything. Shiro redirected everyone’s attention with, “Look, he doesn’t understand that not everyone is Galra. It’s crazy being in there, you have to understand—the total brainwash is astounding. _I_ almost fell for it. We’ve got to cut him some slack.”

Everyone else grumbled, but Kuro could sense their agreement. Princess turned to Kuro. “We’ll give you some space, then, to decide. We’ll come back soon.”

The paladins filed out. Princess waved off her advisor, telling him something—Kuro thought she said, “I’ll take him back myself. If he makes any trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

Kuro remained sitting at his side of the table, as did Princess. They waited until the sounds of the paladins had faded far, far away. Princess stood, and Kuro watched her small blob at the end of the table get closer and closer until she stood almost on top of Kuro, crowding him into his chair.

She sneered at him. This close, Kuro could see every wrinkle in high definition, and the glimpse of straight, white teeth. He didn’t look at her eyes. He wouldn’t say he was afraid of what emotion he’d see, though. He wouldn’t _say_ that.

“I’m waiting,” Princess began, “for you to trip up. Prove me right. Prove to me that you’re just another Galra trick. You’re just another Galra spy sent here to kill us.” She leaned closer. Kuro felt her breath on his ear. “Prove to me you’re just like the rest of them.”

Princess straightened. She put one hand on the back of Kuro’s chair, effectively trapping him where he sat.

“Maybe,” Kuro said, because technically she was right, “but I know you, too, Princess.”

“You know me.” Princess snorted, then looked away in disgust. “I know you’re going to betray us.” She slapped the pamphlets onto the table in front of Kuro—he hadn’t realized she’d kept them. “I want you off my ship, any means necessary. Trust me. This is the _nice_ way.”

Kuro put his hand on the table too, but he didn’t want to press his luck and try to drum his fingers. “The nice way,” he echoed.

“Get off my ship,” Princess said.

“Right now?” Kuro asked, being a little, mm, butt munch.

Princess pinched the bridge of her nose, but said nothing else.

Kuro stared at his hand. It didn’t go anywhere.

“I can’t hurt you,” he whispered. The words had to be pulled from his mouth by sheer force of will.

“What,” Princess stated.

“I can’t _hurt_ you,” Kuro repeated, louder this time. He made his hand go through the table, and Princess gasped. “See? I’m just smoke.” Kuro rose, and in shock, Princess took a step back. Walking through the table felt slightly odd. Kuro took pains to not try to feel the insides.

“Good heavens,” Princess muttered. “How did this happen to you?”

Kuro looked at his hand again. “I’m just a copy,” he muttered, “and an imperfect one to boot.”

Princess sat down heavily in one of the chairs.

“I was supposed to be Shiro,” Kuro continued. “But I’m not. I’m different. But I was _supposed_ to be. I was supposed to get inside your heads, mess with your minds, make you feel like you were going crazy.”

He didn’t know where the words were coming from. “You were going by the plan. You were supposed to rescue me. Capture me. But I wasn’t ready—you were early. I thought that was fine. She doesn’t always go by the books.

“And I was supposed to kill you, or make you all kill yourselves. Then you were supposed to kill me, too. Or return me to the Galra.”

Kuro stepped out of the table and turned to face Princess. “You see?”

Princess put a delicate hand over her mouth. “Mutually assured destruction.”

Kuro nodded at her. “Mutually assured destruction, indeed.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask!)


	5. Nightmares

Shiro sits at a table. His hands are clasped in front of him, and from time to time, he shifts nervously. He is alone. He regards himself in the mirror. Even with the stone gray walls and light bulb hanging from the ceiling, Shiro trusts that it is a mirror, not a one-way glass. He doesn’t think Galra have one-way glass technology.

Shiro is shaking. He is tired. This is understandable—he has been fighting hard. He deserves a break, so we will give him one. He reaches up to scrub at his face, then reconsiders. His hands slowly descend, locked together, to gently come to a stop against the metal of the table in front of him.

Someone comes to sit in front of him. We do not see his face, but there is a quality to his voice that suggests he is smiling reassuringly, that he is here to listen, that he is on Shiro’s side. He came prepared, with a stack of papers, some of which he removes, the rest of which he squares away and puts to the side.

“So… Takashi. What an interesting name. Tell me what it means?” Unlike almost every other question Shiro had been asked since what happened, happened, the question was a question, bare-faced and truly inquiring.

Shiro glances at the door and back, saying nothing. He does not want to give the Galra anything more than they have taken, no matter how nice they seem.

“Now, Takashi,” the Galra said, forever patient. “Be reasonable. I’m only trying to help. Believe you me—” and here he leans in, conspiracy like, like he’s about to reveal something secret— “this is the _easy_ option.”

“Shiro,” he says.

The Galra straightens, and we see he has a _lot_ to elongate. “Pardon?”

“Call me Shiro.” _Takashi_ is reserved for people who deserve it, and not a single Galra has ever deserved it.

The smile of the Galra is not seen, but it is obvious in his voice, saccharine sweet and even-keeled. “Shiro. Of course. How have you been doing, Shiro?”

Shiro smiles in return, but there is no saccharine sweetness, only the vicious grin of a predator, not meant to display familiarity but to warn of danger. “As well as you can expect.”

“Right, right,” the Galra says. “Now, in all confidentiality, Shiro, I must ask, you understand, it’s part of the job procedure—”

Shiro shifts and groans in his chair. “I don’t care.”

The Galra tsks. He shakes his head, and for the slightest moment, we can see the edge of a glint of sharp, white teeth. “You didn’t even let me finish my sentence. Have you been thinking of—”

***

“—Escape?”

There is something called “corporate nightmare”. It doesn’t exactly have a definition; Haggar thought it meant something that got messed up beyond repair, something went totally FUBAR, and that something was related to the workspace. Anyway, whatever it meant, she would apply it to this current situation.

“Of _course_ he didn’t escape, you absolute _fool,”_ Haggar growled at the moron across the room. “This was all part of the plan! He was supposed to go with Voltron, take them down from the inside.”

Her druids were scared of her. _Good,_ they should be, this whole mess is insane. “But,” one starts, “isn’t it… early? He wasn’t supposed to escape for another three—”

Haggar slammed her hands on a table close by. “Shut _up,_ you fool! Everything is going exactly as planned! If I hear one word about this situation outside this room, each and every one of you will answer to _me._ Do I make myself clear?”

There were mutterings of “yes” and “yes, ma’am” ringing across the room. Haggar stood up straight and fixed her hood.

“Good,” she said, much calmer. “Now tell me what you think our plan of action from here should be.” She already knew she wouldn’t listen to the ideas; she’d already been through ages and ages of useless people presenting useless ideas. But _something_ was bound to be good and stick in Haggar’s mind for later, when it really mattered. Even if it was just a phrase or word. It could be _important._

“Corporate nightmare” ran around in her head, long enough she began to deconstruct it out of boredom. Corporate. Cor-por-ate. Cooooor poooooor aaaaaaate.

Nightmare. Mares, horses, that would come in the night and give you bad dreams. And then Haggar almost laughed—the solution was so simple, and it had been staring her in the face—nightmare.

She angrily waved her hand over the heads of her druids. “Get out! All of you! Useless cowards. You’ll die a thousand deaths if I see you here in five ticks!”

They dispersed, and Haggar had her room to herself. She began to assemble her supplies, everything she needed for her project. All her energies must be focused on one singular point. He wasn’t supposed to escape, and yet Alladosia had slipped up, so he will pay the price. Alladosia hadn’t paid for her sins in millennia. She wasn’t going to start now.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Another short story, sorry sorry sorry. Still important to the plot! We're almost at the end!)
> 
> (If you have questions about why Haggar slips up at the end of the chapter and calls herself Alladosia, I would look at my fic One Day (http://archiveofourown.org/works/9520079), especially the end bits and the bits with Allura in them. Or ask me in the comments!)


	6. Mind Control

Kuro was shaken awake. He started, because he was scared, and unfamiliar faces were crowded over him, staring at him like he was a science museum exhibit.

“You were screaming,” Green stated simply. Kuro said nothing, and so silence filled the space between him and them.

“It was really bad this time,” Yellow said, trying to fill the tension. The rest of the paladin’s voices spilled in, too, asking if he was alright, what had happened, telling him what had happened.

“You were calling my name,” Shiro said quietly. “My _real—_ Takashi. How do you even know that?”

Kuro sat up on his bed, and the paladins fell back. They moved like one being, in that way that was almost spooky. He doubted they were even aware of it. They clustered together, and Kuro got the sense he was being watched by one thing with many eyes.

“I’m fine,” Kuro was able to choke out. He was too disoriented for this. He didn’t have complete control over his mind and its functions, and on second thought, this should have been cause enough for alarm.

Of its own accord, Kuro’s arm shot forward and grabbed Shiro by the throat and _squeezed._ The rest of the paladins screamed and tried to wrench Kuro’s arm away. So did Kuro. Shiro stood motionless in his grasp, gasping for breath.

Kuro clenched his fake muscles and concentrated. He was _smoke._ This shouldn’t be possible. His arm shook from the pressure.

Slowly, Kuro’s fingers slipped _inside_ Shiro’s throat. It was different from the wall or the table—Kuro could feel every wet, warm muscle and slippery vein of blood. Shiro took a shuddering breath, and Kuro felt cold air rush over and _through_ his hand. His palm brushed over Shiro’s voice box.

His hand clenched into a fist, trying to grip something. Kuro concentrated harder, because he couldn’t concentrate hard enough apparently, and the hand stayed smoke. The person controlling his hand gave up on that, but Kuro could feel _her_ in the back of his mind, waiting to do battle.

“What the hell was that,” Red said. His hand was on the small of his back, where Kuro knew he kept his knife. Kuro withdrew his own hand from Shiro’s throat. Shiro went pale.

“Her,” Kuro grunted. He took a step back and let his hand swing at his side.

“No,” Red continued, “that _thing_ that you did with your hand. It literally went through Shiro’s neck. Tell us what it was!”

In explanation, Kuro swung his other hand through the wall. He didn’t feel a thing. The paladins shied away from him, their cluster compressing into something small and scared.

“What the hell,” Green muttered. They tentatively reached out to touch Kuro’s chest. Their fingers were cold, but after a moment of resistance, they slipped inside. Kuro felt them brush against his ribs and his heart, and Green said in a hushed voice, “It’s so _warm.”_

“Yeah,” Kuro grunted. _She_ was getting impatient. “Get out.”

Green withdrew their arm immediately. “Sorry.”

“No, I—I mean _all_ of you,” Kuro said. “Get out of my room. I need to focus.”

Shiro looked deep into Kuro’s eyes for a long moment, switching back and forth between them. He was searching inside Kuro this time, trying to look for honesty. Kuro tried to express with Shiro’s own steely gray eyes that he didn’t want to hurt them, that she was going to tear him apart but at least none of them would be caught in the crossfire.

If it had been five days ago, just five days, Kuro would have wanted them to stay. He would have let it happen. They were his enemies. But then they had tried to help him, their enemy; Kuro was willing to let the fact they only showed him the rest of those planets because they needed him gone slide. They had been helpful, even Princess, who didn’t fully trust him. If it had been five days ago.

“We can help,” Yellow began, but Kuro cut him off with a simple growled _“Go.”_

The cluster of paladins looked at itself, then Shiro bustled them all away. Kuro watched them walk down the hallway. They hadn’t locked his door behind them. Kuro was tempted to lock it himself, but he figured he shouldn’t step outside without permission.

Watching them go, Kuro was overcome by a sense of bone-deep exhaustion. He lay on the floor of his room. She was waiting for him. Kuro met her in his mind, a dark plane littered with stars—perfectly black and white, Haggar’s purple and gold the only colors Kuro could see.

She had been waiting for him. He knew. “Kuro, my darling. My wonderful project. My best creation.

“You’re useless without us,” Haggar cooed. “You know that, don’t you? You _need_ us.”

Kuro clenched his fist. He wasn’t smoke in his mind, and he was _ready_ to hurt her. She had hurt him enough times.

Haggar laughed, and pushed her hood back. Kuro stared into her gold eyes, and traced the red birthmarks with his eyes. She was infinitely far away, but Kuro could see every detail with crystal clarity.

“I don’t care,” Kuro said. “You hurt me.”

“That’s not important,” Haggar said with reassurance. She extended a hand, and Kuro flinched, but she did nothing with it but hold it out for him to take. Kuro regarded it with some trepidation. “You _belong_ with us.”

“I belong where I want to belong.” Kuro stepped back. Haggar floated closer.

“You want to belong to me.” Haggar reached out her hand again, and Kuro squeezed his eyes closed like it would help. Her hands were rough against her face, the product of thousands of years of callouses from hard work. “No one else understands you like I do.”

“You don’t understand me at all.” Haggar’s hand moved up and down with his jaw.

“You’re not ready for the universe.” Kuro was getting used to Haggar’s hand on his face. He felt so young in her hands. He was young. And she was right—he wasn’t ready to face the outside world, to get his life on track.

“You _need_ us.”

And help him, Kuro was so tempted. He wanted to be protected from uncertainty, and Haggar would do that. Kuro could accept the hurt if he was safe.

An image of the paladin cluster rose up in his mind, melded together, alien and strange. He didn’t open his eyes, but he could see Haggar smile all the same. “Yes,” she whispered, harsh and raspy like her voice really was.

Kuro clenched his teeth. The paladins were his _friends._ They had helped him. They hadn’t hurt him, not even once, even though he was the enemy. Haggar’s hand stiffened on Kuro’s hand, and with his eyes still closed, Haggar’s furious expression burned itself onto the back of his eyelids.

_“No,_ you idiot,” Haggar hissed. _“I_ am your best chance. _Me.”_

Kuro stepped back so Haggar’s hand hung in the space between them, no longer on his face. He opened his eyes. The star plane wasn’t too bright or too dark, and it greeted him like an old friend.

“I am my own best chance,” Kuro said. “I will rely on myself and people who are good to me. You aren’t part of my life anymore.”

_“NO,”_ Haggar screamed, but Kuro made her dissipate into white light, which faded to join the myriad stars above his head. She didn’t belong here anymore. She wouldn’t lie heavy on his heart anymore. He didn’t care.

She was gone.

***

After a while, Kuro couldn’t differentiate the lights that had been Haggar from the rest of the stars. It was for the best. She belonged far away.

He knew he could stay there for the rest of his life, wandering the plane until he died, staring at the stars. _Literally._ That was an option, and all he would have to do is start walking until stopping wasn’t an option any more.

Kuro sat down criss-cross applesauce on the floor. He was tired from fighting Haggar. And the star plane tempted him.

Deep inside himself, he knew he needed to go back. This place wasn’t good for him. Back on the castle-ship, he opened his eyes, and in the back of his mind the star plane melted away. He made simple decisions with lasting impact most of the time, but the star plane was always accessible.

The lights in the castle were dim. Kuro must have stayed longer in the star plane than he thought; he could sense that everyone else was sleeping. He thought he heard a distant snore.

Sleep was a good idea. He should try it some time. His hand was shaking when he looked at it—probably not a good thing, but Kuro couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was a snore, then a snort, right outside his room. Kuro got up to look outside, but all he saw was Shiro sitting next to the wall, arms crossed, gently waking up to himself. He looked up at Kuro and said, “Hey.”

Kuro blinked. He had expected everyone to be in their own rooms asleep. “You should sleep.”

Shiro stretched and came to stand up. He and Kuro were the same height, which, no duh. “Couldn’t. Thought I’d see how you were doing. You gave us a real scare there, telling us to get out and then going still like that.”

“Mm. I’m fine. You’re done now. Good-bye.”

“I also wanted to thank you,” Shiro said, not to be deterred. “You saved us. I don’t know how, but you did—thank you for that.”

Kuro sighed and slumped his shoulders. “I don’t need your thanks.”

“I’m giving it anyway,” Shiro said, his smile gentle. “Even if you don’t need to get it, I still need to give it. _Thank you.”_

_Stop,_ Kuro wanted to say, but didn’t. He remained silent.

“We can drop you off anywhere you want to go,” Shiro said in the silence. “Least we can do. You don’t have to be a part of our war.”

Kuro sniffed and ducked his head under the pretence of scratching his nose. He paused—these words had never come easy to him, and he’d never really had a chance to use them before.

“Thank you,” Kuro whispered. “For everything.”

He didn’t need to elaborate—Shiro understood. He reached through the bars to lay a solid hand on Kuro’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The next two chapters are pure fluff. Tooth-rotting fluff.)


	7. Scars

Kuro was invited to sit with the paladins for breakfast the next day. Shiro had vouched for him, and Kuro stayed close to him, in case Princess decided enough was enough and kicked him out.

“So I heard you fought like twenty Galra soldiers in your mind palace,” Blue said, sliding over to sit next to Kuro. Kuro was still trying to figure out how _spoons_ worked—they were for scooping, sure, but the food would fall out of the little bowl every time he turned it upside down.

“Don’t play with your food,” Shiro whispered, and Kuro watched him use his own spoon. “He didn’t, Lance,” Shiro continued.

“Oh yeah? And how do _you_ know?” Lance asked. “You weren’t there.”

Shiro froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “It didn’t happen, is all.”

Blue snorted. “Sure.” He turned to Kuro. “So was it exciting? How’d you fend them off? Was it like a, the one-two kind of thing—” he pantomimed punching an undercut— “or did you use your cool Jedi mind tricks? C’mon man, throw me a bone.”

Kuro carefully spooned some food into his mouth, taking care not to spill anything. He’d rarely had a chance to eat like this before—sure, the paladins had dropped off food in his room before this, but he’d glared at it and let himself grow hungry. He thought it would be some trick. Haggar used to mess with him by giving him food that only somehow made him _hungrier._ He hated it.

“Don’t pressure him, Lance,” Yellow said, coming over to lay a hand on Blue’s shoulder. “He looks like he’s had a rough time of it.”

Blue looked at Yellow, then shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I guess.” He sent a jealous glance Kuro’s way. “I still wanna know, though.”

Kuro set his spoon on the table with a small _clink._ “It wasn’t twenty Galra soldiers,” he began.

Blue whooped. “Story time! Bring it on! Tell me everything.”

Kuro looked around the table. The rest of the paladins looked at him expectantly, even Shiro, who had gone still with food still on his spoon.

“I want to know, too,” Green muttered, and soon everyone else reaffirmed their statement. _Especially_ Blue.

“It’s really not that exciting,” Kuro said. “It was just Haggar. She was in my head, and she said some mean stuff, and I sent her away.”

“That’s _it?”_ Blue asked, incredulous. “No ninja moves? No special powers?” He threw his hands up, then let them fall on his thighs with a loud slap. “Man, I thought it would be exciting.”

Kuro pushed some food around on his plate. “It was more beautiful than exciting.”

Blue’s face opened slightly. “Yeah? Do tell, my good sir.”

Kuro looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the star plane. “It was so dark,” he said, absent-mindedly narrating what he had seen. “But I could see everything in there for miles around. The ground reflected the sky. And everywhere, there were tiny pieces of light that might have been what stars look like from the ground. They were painted onto the ceiling, though the ceiling was so high up that it didn’t look fake.

“Haggar was far away, but I could see everything about her. When she got closer, I could see even more, like the wrinkles in the shadows of her robe. She wanted me to go back with her.” Kuro stopped and ate a small bit of food. “That’s it. She became one of the stars when I asked the place to make her go away.”

The table was quiet for some time, then the paladins erupted into question, even Shiro. Kuro withered in his chair and waited for them to stop.

It was Yellow who noticed, and who made everyone back off. “He needs some space. One at a time, everyone, please.”

Kuro breathed out. “I can’t,” he whispered, then wished he could take back. He was disgusted at how simply _vulnerable_ he sounded. He shouldn’t sound like that. He didn’t want anyone to sound like that. It caused this emotion that he couldn’t name and that he didn’t like. He wanted someone to take care of him, but he’d die before he said that out loud.

The paladins were surprisingly good at reading between the lines. They gently and slowly but surely wrapped Kuro up in hugs and warmth. Shiro even directed Red to grab a blanket, and they had a comfort pile, right there at the breakfast table. Kuro _didn’t_ cry. Not even once.

Princess laughed when she came in, a laugh born from exasperation. She was used to antics like this from her paladins, apparently. “Paladins, I expect you on the bridge in a few,” she said, but she made no move to break them apart. Kuro watched her with only his eyes, and closed them when she left. It was warm in the comfort pile, and Kuro wanted to go back to sleep.

After maybe three minutes, Red heaved himself up with a strained, “Yep. I think I should go.” Green hopped up and followed him out of the room, and one by one the paladins dispersed until it was just Shiro and Kuro, who Red had wrapped a blanket around.

“You never told us where you want to go,” Shiro said.

The pamphlet for Loch Lillian was still in his room. He’d put it under his bed to look at whenever he wanted. It probably wouldn’t get taken away there.

Kuro felt the edge of the blanket and wondered. He didn’t think he’d felt anything so soft in his life. He didn’t want to let go, but he knew he’d have to eventually.

“I want to go home,” Kuro murmured. “I don’t know where that is though. It’s not here.” He glanced at Shiro for a simple second, gauging his reaction. Shiro made an aborted noise and kept silent.

“I think I can make it somewhere else,” Kuro continued. “I was thinking about Loch Lillian. She’s never been. I think that’d be great.”

Shiro hummed, and they sat in silence for some time while Shiro searched for what to say. “I’ll let Allura know,” he finally said. He pulled up some star charts that Kuro couldn’t understand. For his own safety, he’d never been taught how to read them. He suddenly realized they just didn’t want him to know where he was going if he ever escaped.

“It’ll take us about three days to get there,” Shiro said, snapping Kuro out of his revelation. “Good choice. It’s almost completely free of Galra rule.”

 _Free._ Huh.

***

Yellow sat down heavily next to Kuro. He had been offered a new room, but he liked the one he had now; so that was where Yellow met him. Kuro was reading his pamphlet. He loved reading his pamphlet.

“We should talk,” Yellow said. Kuro was surprised a voice that gentle could come from a person that big; the bigger you were the tougher you were supposed to be. That was just how it worked. Everything about the paladins, though, was almost wrong, but they managed to make it right.

Kuro said nothing. Yellow scooted close to Kuro on his bed. “I said, we should talk,” he repeated. “Before you leave. There’s a lot that’s… you have a really warped and twisted sense of reality. I want to make it right.”

Kuro shrugged. Yellow could do whatever he wanted. Kuro wouldn’t stop him.

Yellow opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it and fiddled with his thumbs. “Why… why _do_ you think like that? What did they teach you?”

Kuro flipped the brochure for Loch Lillian over, considering the back photo. He thought carefully.

“They taught me never to show weakness. That first. And that they were everything to me, while I was nothing. I was imperfect. We’re built to have a purpose, and since I wasn’t able to really ever complete my purpose, I wasn’t right. They taught me what colors were, and why each and every single one of them was bad. They taught me numbers and letters—I’m not dumb, okay? I can do math and read. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Yellow said, “I don’t think you’re dumb.”

Kuro folded in on himself slightly. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t. You’re too _nice._ But they did. She did.” He stood up abruptly. “I’ll be fine on my own. Talking to you separately is… weird. Please go away.”

Yellow put up one finger. “Okay, I don’t really know how it goes in space, because I’m not an alien and I’ve only been here for like two months, but most people do not like being dismissed like that. But—” he stood up— “I will go, because I respect your wishes and I understand being overwhelmed and wanting to be alone. You can come get me if you need me.”

With that, he left, and Kuro was left alone standing in the middle of his room. He didn’t know what just happened, but he had the sense he had done something wrong, while at the same time knowing he was completely in the right.

***

Kuro hadn’t really interacted with the paladins for those last few days. Princess had instructed him to pack up everything he owned, and then seemed to realize he didn’t have anything to pack. Kuro liked to think he took that moment with grace.

The castle touched down on Loch Lillian, in an empty forest with a town a couple minute’s walk from where they were. The paladins and Princess and her advisor met him in the Castle’s main hall. They stood in a line, but again, Kuro didn’t think they acted like a hive mind on purpose.

Princess stared them off. She smiled at him. “I wish you the best of luck with your new life, Kuro. To send you off, each of us has decided to give you a gift to help you readjust.” She stepped forward, and her advisor handed her a small, metal disc. She held it carefully in both hands and presented it to Kuro. “Ta-da!”

Kuro stared at the disc blankly and made no move to grab it. “What is this?”

Princess gently extended the gift some more. “It’s called a Home Builder. Here, take it—” she took one of Kuro’s hands in one of her own and pressed the disc into his palm. It was thicker than he expected, and slightly heavier.

“There,” she said, taking a small step back and folding her hands delicately in front of her. “The Home Builder is the perfect tool for any Altean who plans on exploring the vast wilderness of space and perhaps settling down. If you press here—” she pointed to a spot on the disc, where there was indeed a button— “a selection screen comes up. You tap on the screen to access instructions: how to build a house or temporary shelter, how to make a meal, how to collect rainwater, and how to start a fire with the available resources. It does a cool scan, from here—” Princess went on and on, but Kuro thought he had all the necessary information, so he tuned her out.

“And this is how you turn it off,” Princess said finally, pressing the main button again. “Got everything?”

Kuro nodded, then thrust the Home Builder back at her. “Thank you for showing me.”

“No, you… you keep that,” Princess said, holding her hands close to her and pointing at the disc. “You’ll need it for where you’re going.”

Kuro considered the disc. “You’re giving it to me?”

“Yes,” Princess said slowly. “It’s a _gift.”_

“Ah,” Kuro whispered. He thought he knew about gifts—Shiro’s instincts definitely did, so Kuro bowed slightly, his hands pressed to his sides. “Thank you.”

Princess settled into her relaxed stance of hands-clasped-in-front. “You are quite welcome, Shiro. I mean—”

She looked around. Kuro didn’t take offense, and neither did Shiro, though they both laughed, as did the rest of the paladins. Princess held her fingers curled gently next to her face, then broke into a sheepish grin. “Ah, I’m sorry. I guess I should let someone else take the stage.” She stepped grandly to the side and gestured equally grandly, an open invitation for anyone to step in front of Kuro. To his almost surprise, all the paladins stepped forward, then acted surprised themselves that they all had done so. There was a mild cacophony of “you first”s.

Yellow and Green stepped forward, side-by-side. Yellow carried a large bag, and when Kuro cared enough to look, there were a couple more bags closer to the door. Green held an unwieldy robot under one arm and a small box with their other hand.

Yellow began with, “I got you food.” He pointed at the bags Kuro had noticed by the door. “I can help you carry them off-ship if you want. Actually, since I have more to bring than just this, I’m going to need a lot of help. Alright.” He put the bags down and started pointing. “This is a flour substitute. So is this. That’s a sugar substitute, and there’s another one by the door; they’re smaller, though. I have a couple of gallons of distilled water over there, too.”

Kuro watched as Yellow quickly ran over to his pile of bags and gallons. He came back with a smaller, drawstring bag, though one still of considerable size. He started pulling things out and presenting them to Kuro.

“This is a fire starter,” he said, holding a small, dirty cube. “I’ve included some instructions, though… I don’t know if you can read them.”

“I’m fluent in English,” Kuro interrupted. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Yellow said slowly. “That’s not odd at all. Okay, so firestarter, plus I got you a refillable water bottle and a bunch of those pills that disinfect water. You have to fill the bottle with water from a stream, right, and then put one of the pills in, and after half an hour the water will be disinfected. How cool. I know, right? Okay. Oh, I also made you a cutting board.” He took out a slab of wood with a swirling design burned into the bottom, a hole cut out of the top, and a small groove running around the entire border. “Do you like it?”

Kuro gently took the bag and the cutting board. The wood was smooth. “Yes.”

“Yay,” Hunk whispered. “Alright. Once everyone else is done, we’ll go and put this all away.”

Green stepped forward and put the hand holding the box in Yellow’s face. “Enough about him. Time for _me_ to give Kuro his presents.” They leaned in close to Yellow and whispered, “Mine are _be-tur.”_

Yellow scoffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah? Well at least I can carry two sacks of flour. Those things are heavy, man. How much does that thing weigh? Like, ten pounds, right.”

Green made a face at Yellow. Somehow, Kuro didn’t sense any ill will, only playful teasing.

“Anyway,” Green said, deliberate. They shoved the box in Kuro’s face. “This is a distress signal. If you need our help, press the red button on the top. We’ll be right there. Oh, and—” they flipped the box so another, blue button showed— “press this if it’s a non-emergency, like if you need company or something. We’ll show up as soon as possible. I mean, it shouldn't really be necessary, because of this—” they took the robot hidden under their arm and presented it proudly. “My pride and joy. I haven't decided a name—it’s either Lena or Daisy. Or Lana Del Rey. Or you can decide! She’s yours.” Green held out the robot expectantly.

Kuro gently set down the distress signal on his growing pile of things. He took the robot from Green’s outstretched arms. It whirred in his hands—it was a sphere, though flattened slightly at what Kuro assumed was the bottom. There was a line running along the equator and more lines running up and down from the bottom to join at the top.

Two blue dots of light flickered into being as the robot grew warm in Kuro’s hand. The sphere lifted and began to float as the dots grew brighter. It chirruped. Kuro kept his hands cupped underneath it—he didn’t think of letting the drone just fly.

“She’ll keep you company,” Green said. They stared transfixed at their drone. “She picks up personality patterns, though her memory’s pretty full, so it’ll be less now. Since she really only hung out with me, she’s basically going to have my personality, so you can thank me later. I’m of the opinion that everyone needs a Pidge somewhere easily accessible at all times.” They fixed their glasses. “You’re welcome.”

The drone flew around Kuro’s head once, then settled on his shoulder. She was warm, but not too hot—Kuro could feel her through his shirt. “Hello, Kuro,” she said softly, so only Kuro could hear. A tiny slice of metal popped out from the sphere and tapped him on the cheek. “Where are we going? What are we doing?”

“What do you know, you tiny robot,” Kuro whispered to the drone. She recoiled slightly, and her two dots changed to two dots with angry downward pointed angles cut off from the top.

“I know everything,” the robot said. “Give me a name.”

Kuro considered. None of Green’s names were very spectacular, and naming things was important. Kuro only had his name because it was the exact opposite of his exact opposite’s name.

“Spirit,” he finally decided. “You will be named Spirit.”

The two dots blinked on and off once. “Spirit,” it said. “Spirit, Spirit, Spirit. I am named Spirit!” It floated off of Kuro’s shoulder for a second. “I suppose it’s an alright name,” she said, floating back down.

“Thank you,” Kuro said to Green. “I will take good care of your robot.”

Green smiled. They beckoned for the distress signal, and turned it again so another button showed. “Press this if you need me specifically, especially for maintenance. The robot’s a prototype, so I can make as many modifications as I need to. Alright that’s all from me! Bye and good luck!”

Green hesitated for a second, then flung their arms around Kuro. Kuro froze—he didn’t know what Green was trying to do—were they trying to squeeze him? Hurt him? The grip was too gentle for too long. It might have been a trap to get him off-guard. His breath hitched in his throat.

Green pressed their face into Kuro’s chest. He had to focus to make sure they wouldn’t pass right through his body. “This is a hug,” they murmured into his chest. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

After a long moment, Green reached for Kuro’s hand to place it on their shoulder. “Hug me back. I’m showing you affection.” They sniffed, and Kuro could feel something wet seep into his shirt. “I’m going to miss you. Did you know, I can feel how warm you are.”

Kuro placed his other hand on Green’s other shoulder. He bowed over their tiny body—these hug things weren’t so bad.

Green stepped back after a moment. They scrubbed at their face and forced a smile through their tears. Kuro was overcome by a need to brush away their sadness. They were too small to deal with this universe.

Yellow placed a hand on Green’s shoulder to guide them away. He and Blue both wiped away tears of their own. Blue grabbed Red’s hand and marched them both up to stand before Kuro in the wake of Yellow and Green. A thick stack of bound papers were clasped under his free arm, and there was something small in his hand.

Blue proudly held out a small cloth envelope—the small thing. “This is for you.” He smiled expectantly.

Kuro gingerly took it from Blue and opened the flap. Inside were various ancient or out-dated coins and more recent ones thrown in liberally, but also willy-nilly.

“Money,” Blue said proudly. “There’s probably two hundred dollars in there. It should be enough to get you on your feet at first. I was thinking you should buy some seeds and start planting and farming for yourself, since that’s environmentally healthy and self-sustainable. So I got you a book, too, about farming. I think. It’s not in English, though, but I think it’s in Galra, so you should be able to read it.” Blue presented the bound stack of papers. Kuro flipped through it, liking the vibrant pictures. The front cover read _The Simple Pleasures,_ indeed in the main Galran language that was widespread throughout the universe.

Spirit chirruped and extended a hand to grab the cloth envelope. “What’s this?” she asked Blue.

Blue laughed once, though it sounded forced. “I already said, it’s money. Money can be exchanged for goods and services. I would recommend you use it to buy things you need that we didn’t get you. You know, you should get a job, too. They’ll give you money so that you don’t have to live off a finite amount. Or, you know, you don’t have to. You can just farm and stuff. I don’t know.”

Kuro took the envelope from Spirit. “Thank you.”

Blue shrugged. “No problem, man. Don’t forget to call if you need anything.” He pushed Red forward. Red gave Blue a withering glare in return.

Red held up a box, the kind with a removable lid. “Here.”

Kuro took the box and took off the lid, almost expecting something to jump out and attack him. Nothing happened, so Kuro looked inside. A large knife with a serrated edge on one side and a sharper edge on the other lay innocently on the bottom, as did some cleaning supplies. Kuro swallowed thickly, then placed the lid back on the box.

“It’s a hunting knife,” Red explained. “Everyone should be able to defend themselves in the wild. Even if you just scare the thing that’s trying to kill you, you’ll be fine. There will be predators, but you will have a knife, so you’ll be fine.”

“Of course you got him a _knife,”_ Blue scoffed. “How original. _Not.”_

Red closed his eyes. “Shut up, Lance.”

Blue rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Red turned back to Kuro. “Whatever. If you don’t know how to use it, ask someone. Like me. I’ve had to use my own more times than I can count.” Next to him, Blue crossed his arms and made a funny face, mocking everything Red was saying. Kuro held back a laugh.

“We’ll see you around,” Red concluded. “Don’t not use the distress signal. We’re going to miss you. Pidge’s already torn up about it.” He got closer to Kuro, face-to-face, and whispered, “Don’t break their heart. They like you a lot, okay? They’d be crushed if we never saw you again.”

Spirit unfurled a couple legs and poked Red in the chest lightly. Red glared at it. “Stop that,” they said in unison.

“I will use the distress signal to call you over sometimes,” Kuro promised. “Thank you for the knife. And the money.”

Blue bowed slightly, a great grin unfolding over his face. “You are very welcome.” Red lightly smacked him on the arm, then looked away when Blue glared at him. “We’ll be seeing you.” They walked away.

Princess’s advisor pushed Shiro in front of Kuro, coming to stand right behind the two. Shiro looked at Kuro for a moment, filled with uncertainty, then pushed the advisor in front in a silent demand for him to go first.

The advisor laughed, which ruffled his moustache. “Alright, alright. Here.” He presented a thick bag, stuffed full of something soft. Kuro squished the sides. “A pillow and blankets! I thought you’d need something comfortable for the long nights ahead.”

Kuro squished the package more. That was fun.

“Divinity knows we have too many of these things,” the advisor continued, a smile glued onto his face. “You’re doing us a favor, putting these in use. There’s soap as well, and a couple changes of clothes in there.”

Blue squawked from where he was standing. “You have changes of clothing on board and you didn’t _tell me?”_

The advisor froze. “Well! Looks like I have to leave right now immediately. Good luck, Kuro! I wish you the best in your new life!” And with that, he just about disappeared, with Blue running after him.

Shiro was left to stand awkwardly in front of Kuro, holding a small box and a tall cylinder full of something green.

Kuro dropped the bag of blankets next to the rest of his pile of things. It was getting to the point where he wouldn’t be able to carry all of it himself. He was glad Shiro’s gifts were so small.

Shiro presented the green cylinder first. “I made you a terrarium. I know, I know, it’s not really _helpful,_ but I thought you’d like how pretty it is.”

Kuro took a small leaf between his thumb and forefinger and marveled at how fragile it was. He set it aside with a small “thank you”.

When he looked back up, Shiro was holding out the box. “Here, open it.”

Inside was a thin, fragile chain. Logically, Kuro knew it would be too weak to hold anything, but he dropped the box with a yell and leaped backwards anyway. Spirit pinched his shoulder with a few of her legs. Shiro brought his arms up to chest-level, and the rest of the paladins behind him clustered together, Princess in the middle.

Haggar was _right._ The paladins _were_ his enemy. He was taken in by how nice they were, and the gifts they gave him—privacy, security, a new home far away from all of them—

“Kuro, no,” Shiro whispered, cutting through Kuro’s panic. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Kuro’s gaze snapped up from looking at the spill of the chain, which glinted silver in the light, to Shiro. He said nothing.

Shiro lowered his arms to his sides and opened his posture. “We’re not going to hurt you, buddy.” He bent down to grab the box and the glittering chain. “It’s just a necklace, see? I have one of my own.”

Shiro fixed the presentation of the chain inside the box, then reached around the back of his neck and presented another fine chain that hung around it. On the end closest to Kuro was a crystal. Shiro pressed the tip of it, and it caved in slightly.

“It’s just a necklace,” he said, smiling gently. Kuro slowly relaxed. “Here. I can show you how to put it on.” He stepped closer to Kuro and presented the box again. Kuro let him.

“You trust me, right?” Shiro whispered. “I’d never hurt you.”

Kuro looked into Shiro’s eyes, a perfect mirror of his own. He nodded.

Shiro took the chain out and unclasped the end. The necklace had a matching crystal in the middle of the curve of the chain to Shiro’s. Shiro held either end of the chain in either of his hands, then showed Kuro how to clasp and unclasp the ends together. Kuro thought he had it.

Shiro directed him to bow his head. After a moment, Kuro felt hands brush the hair at the nape of his neck, and cool metal gently floated down to land on the back of his neck. Kuro lifted his head, and the weight of the crystal settled on his chest.

Shiro held Kuro by the shoulders and looked him up and down like a proud father. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For trusting me.”

For the second time that day, or maybe the third, Kuro was pulled into a hug. Shiro’s arms wrapped around the tops of Kuro’s shoulders and pinned him tight to Shiro's chest. Kuro lifted his hands to rest on Shiro’s hips, then slid them around to hold onto Shiro’s back. He closed his eyes, and they hugged for a solid minute.

Shiro was the first to break away. He smiled at Kuro, then said, “Watch this.” He pressed the tip of his necklace’s crystal again, but this time, _Kuro's_ crystal lit up, a warm amber glow. Kuro gasped.

“If you press it, light will come on in mine,” Shiro hinted. Kuro immediately pressed the tip of his crystal---it willingly bent under his touch, and the crystal on Shiro’s chest lit up, but only for a moment. His light was blue. Kuro pressed it again and again, wanting to see more of the light.

“Alright, okay,” Shiro said with a small laugh. “Listen. Wherever you are in the universe, or wherever I am, if you press the button, the light will reach me immediately. I’ll send a light right back.”

Kuro pressed his crystal one last time, then set it down to rest on his chest. “Thank you.”

Shiro put a hand on Kuro’s shoulder. “Thank me by making a good life for yourself here. I want to see you prosper and grow as a person.” He paused for a moment, then used his hand to wipe at his face. “I’m going to miss you.”

Kuro put his hand over Shiro's, which still lay on his shoulder. “I’ll miss you, too. Good luck.”

Kuro didn’t really remember the rest of his departure. He knew a lot of activity happened, and he was set up and ready to build a temporary shelter, before he came back to himself to wave good-bye at the departing castle.

Kuro had never had to say good-bye before. It was hard. Logically, he knew he’d see the paladins again, but he also knew that he was alone and he had to depend on himself to survive.

He looked at his gifts. Spirit hummed on his shoulder, and he absent-mindedly reached up to pat the top of her sphere. He’d never imagined this sort of future for himself. All he knew was how to die, and then the paladins came along, and they showed him how to live.

It was true. Voltron really _did_ save lives.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The prompt says scars, and I give you FIVE thousand words of team bonding and gift giving. I think this is the longest chapter. So sue me)
> 
> (I almost had Shiro and Kuro bond over the different scars they got---it's the only thing that's different about them, since scars aren't genetically passed down. Oh well have some fluff instead)
> 
> (Also. Pidge gives Kuro a different version of the MorpHex---look that thing up! I love it. I also love Spirit. I'm not a roboticisist so I'm taking some artistic liberties here)


	8. EPILOGUE: Free Day (Sometimes a Family is an Ex-Super-Soldier, His Asshole Robot, and a Tiny Thief

Kuro’s house was decent enough to present to the paladins, he thought. He had cleaned and dusted, and Spirit had insisted she wipe down the windows. Panbury had made the beds, though not very well. She was young. Her skills lay in other areas.

 

Kuro pressed his necklace. Instantly, it lit up; the amber light spilled over onto the kitchen table. Kuro smiled.

 

There was a knock on the door. Kuro called to Panbury and Spirit that he’d get it. These were _his_ friends, after all, first and foremost.

 

Kuro opened the door to see Shiro’s beaming face. Shiro gave Kuro a bone-crushing hug, and the paladins swarmed into Kuro’s house, making funny sounds at the place: Kuro was proud. The Home Builder sat at the center of the table, surrounded by leaves and inedible berries Panbury had brought in from the forest.

 

“Wow,” Blue said. By know, Kuro knew their names, but it was easier for him to call them by their colors. “You built all of this?”

 

“I did,” Kuro said, Shiro still hanging on his shoulder. “Me and Spirit. Took some time, but I think it’s nice.”

 

“Nice?” Red asked, incredulous. “This is amazing! It's better than most places back on Earth!”

 

Kuro scoffed, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I’m sure it’s not. Do you want anything to drink? We have a lot to catch up on.”

 

The paladins all requested different things: water, nunvil, wine for Green but Shiro quickly shut that down. Kuro directed them to sit around the table. Spirit brought them coasters while Kuro fixed the drinks.

 

Panbury poked her head in from the hallway and asked if she could join in. Kuro gave her two glasses of water and told her to take them to Shiro and Yellow.

 

“Oh, who’s this?” Blue asked when he saw Panbury. “New addition to the family?”

 

Kuro set down more drinks, including his own. “That’s Panbury.” He smiled in her direction and quietly told her to sit by him. “I found her picking pockets in Bap Taw. Now she won’t leave.”

 

“She's so… little,” Green said.

 

“You used to be that small,” Red teased. Green scowled at him, and he put his hands up in mock surrender.

 

“I’m a nice size,” Panbury said, offended. “Kuro likes it, don’t you, Kuro?”

 

“Indeed I do, little one,” Kuro said, placing a hand on Panbury’s head. He turned back to the paladins. “She helps me farm and keep house. I’d be helpless without her.”

 

Panbury smiled up at him, all teeth. Her antennae waved slightly.

 

Kuro looked around the table. “Princess Allura isn’t with you?”

 

“She had some business to take care of,” Shiro said lightly. Around the table, the rest of the paladins wince.

 

“I see,” Kuro said. Panbury grabbed his hand under the table. “Send her my regards, then.”

 

“We will,” Red said. “So everything’s going well with you? Your house is amazing.”

 

“Thank you,” Kuro said. “We had to make a new room when Panbury came in. Tell Princess Allura we’re grateful for her gift.”

 

Panbury’s legs kicked under the table, and she nodded.

 

“What is going on with you?” Kuro asked, directing the attention to the paladins’ own endeavors. “I hear Voltron has been freeing planets, fighting… fighting _Haggar_ and Prince Lotor. You know you can always come here if you need a break.”

 

“Thank you,” Yellow said. “Yeah, we’ve been on the run for a while now. We don’t really want to engage with them. Loch Lillian was a good choice, Kuro, since it hides itself from the forces of evil. And Haggar is definitely evil.”

 

“Well, good luck with that,” Kuro said. “How long can you stay this time?”

 

The paladins all looked around the table at each other and smiled. Green was silently elected their spokesperson, and said very loudly, “We can stay for a grand total of… drumroll, please.” The rest of the paladins started to drum their fingers on the side of the table rapidly, and Panbury tried to join in. Kuro laughed.

 

“Two weeks!” Green declared, throwing their hands up in the air. The rest of the paladins follow suit.

 

“Oh! Great!” Kuro said. “Spirit and I will get your rooms ready. You brought stuff, right? Okay! Come on, come on, we’ll get you situated.”

 

The general clamor of settling in was music to Kuro’s ears. Green had kidnapped Spirit to work some maintenance, and the sounds of machinery and metal clanging against wood surfaces—Green often dropped sheets of metal—made for a cheery backdrop to Red and Blue’s arguing, and Shiro and Yellow’s interrogation of Panbury.

 

Panbury sent begging eyes Kuro’s way, and from the paladin’s rooms came the sound of Spirit’s distress. Kuro went to rescue his people from his friends. It almost worked.

 

Dinner that night was an event. Kuro directed each of the paladins to a task in the morning. Only Shiro took his with enthusiasm: “We’re always ready to help! Just tell us what to do.” Kuro thought his attitude would change come morning.

 

Green and Panbury were sent to weed the vegetable garden, while Blue and Yellow cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. Even Kuro’s ice box had the frost scraped out when he went to look. Red and Spirit both turned soil wherever Green and Panbury weren’t weeding, and Shiro taught Kuro how to make ice tea in return for Kuro telling Shiro how to make hoy lass, a local drink.

 

The paladins and Kuro took a break to drink ice tea and hoy lass while they watched Panbury and Spirit play in the front lawn. Kuro watched his family with pride—they had come such a long way since Kuro had left the war behind and settled down on Loch Lillian.

 

The next day, they all went into town. Kuro held tightly onto Panbury's hand so she wouldn’t be tempted, but they didn't stay long; Kuro only had to pick up a gardening tool he had repaired a couple weeks ago. He allowed the paladins to explore, though, and Green came back with a nicely colored stone and a baked pastry. They split it with everyone else, though, so it was okay.

 

The days passed—since Kuro had less work to do, he mostly sat on the porch with Shiro, drinking ice tea and hoy lass and swapping stories. Kuro told Shiro some tips he’d been given to forget the pain of bygone days, and Shiro told Kuro why some of his ingrained habits came to be. Seat belts were used to keep driving people safe. Where Shiro came from, you bowed to show thanks and respect.

 

The end of two weeks came too quickly, in Kuro’s opinion. The clamor of re-packing bags grated on Kuro’s ears, though he helped where he could. It was always a little odd, watching people gather their lives together after spreading out like they had. Kuro knew he’d have to call them on the non-emergency distress signal for them to pick up whatever they left behind.

 

This time, good-byes went smoothly; Panbury gave each of the paladins flowers from the forest, small clusters of white petals that seemed to float in the air. The paladins all reverently tucked them behind their ears, in button-holes, wherever they would fit. They looked like a real bouquet by the time they were ready to go.

 

One by one, they lined up to give Kuro a hug. By now, Kuro knew all about hugs; they were sweet, friendly, caring. He was honored to receive them.

 

The castle came by to pick them up, and Kuro waved for as long as he could before he couldn't see the ship anymore, and then longer than that. Spirit took Panbury inside the house to make her lunch, and Kuro sat outside on the porch, listening to the wood of his chair creak and the wind blow through the leaves of the trees in front of him.

 

It was peaceful. Kuro was ready to live out the rest of his life on Loch Lillian: he had family, a sedate way of life, and the best friends a Galra ex-super-soldier could hope for.

 

Kuro tilted his head back and closed his eyes. There were no sounds to distract him anymore, nothing that could hurt him here. He smiled.

 

That’s how Spirit and Panbury found him later, fast asleep on the chair on the porch. Panbury laughed, but crawled into Kuro’s lap, and Spirit rested on his shoulder. And there they slept, in a place where no one could ever hurt them ever again.

 

 

 

END

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This was written for Kuro Week 2k17: https://kuroweek.tumblr.com/
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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